


but if he's a ghost (then i can be a phantom)

by houseofthedragon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: All the bad things :), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Smut, Aunt/Nephew Incest, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Halloween Costumes, Happy Halloween, Infidelity, Is this another cheating story..., Maybe - Freeform, Smut, Yes it Is, fuck (and i cannot stress this enough) khal drogo so this is not for drogo/dany shippers, was i on crack while writing this?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-09 03:44:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20847005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/houseofthedragon/pseuds/houseofthedragon
Summary: The last thing Jon wants to do is spend Halloween at his aunt’s house, who also used to be his best friend. And the girl he kissed on prom night.





	but if he's a ghost (then i can be a phantom)

**Author's Note:**

> alright october's going to be a hell of a month as i have finals coming up so don't yell at me, i'll get back to my other fics but not for a few weeks until i get out of this hellhole of revision and stress. and then i'm on break so there'll be regular updates i promise!! but anyway it's october and i can't NOT write a halloween story.
> 
> this is unbeta'ed so if you see a mistake (which you will) just pretend you didn't. 
> 
>   
& thanks to [this bitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacewillwin) for helping me finish this whenever i didn’t feel like it and also forcing me to write incest in a modern au and making this beautiful moodboard ANNNND just for being my favourite person ever.

“I don’t want to go.”

The look Rhaegar gives Jon the moment these words leave his mouth is one of utter exasperation. His father looks _done _with him, pale eyes glowering in his direction as he purses his lips. “Really, Jon?” he drawls, “You’re acting like a kid now.”

Jon scoffs, leaning against the doorframe as he helplessly watches his father pack his things, clearly not caring about Jon’s opinion on the matter. “It’s dumb,” Jon says, “Who goes to visit family on Halloween?”

“People who don’t have the privilege to do it any other time of the year. C’mon, Jon, I can finally take two weeks off work and you’re on break as well. Our schedules rarely ever match!” Rhaegar looks up at Jon for effect, “Plus, your aunt wants to see you.”

The word still makes Jon cringe. _Aunt. _“She wants us to fly across the country for a dumb party,” he mutters in annoyance.

Rhaegar sighs in exhaustion. “She wants to see you. And me. She’s my little sister, you know? And she used to be your best friend.”

“That was a long time ago. Things changed.”

“Yes, and why did things change?”

_Because I started ignoring her attempts to stay in contact with me. _Jon shrugs, a demure and careless expression on his face.

“It’s not really the date that’s bothering you,” remarks Rhaegar because, of course he does, he can always read Jon so easily, “No matter the time of the year, whether she’d invite us over for Christmas or her birthday, you’d still complain about it.”

Jon doesn’t have an answer to that because anything he can think of to say in his defence is a complete lie. Rhaegar’s right. Jon does not want to see Daenerys, no matter the time, location or purpose.

His father continues, determined to dig a guilt hole to throw him in. “Dany is alone. Ever since Aemon died, she’s had no one in Dragonstone with her. And you know what they say, a Targaryen alone in the world is a—”

“Terrible thing,” Jon cuts him off with a huff. “Sure. But she’s not alone. She’s married.”

“Engaged.”

“Doesn’t make a difference.” Jon hopes he’s doing good at hiding the bite in his words, the bitterness behind each syllable. “She has someone. She isn’t this…lonely little girl you think we left behind.”

Rhaegar seemed annoyed earlier but now, his face turns sombre. Serious. The slight furrow in his brows deepens as he stares at Jon. “I’m going to visit my sister,” he says slowly, “And if you don’t want to come, don’t. I’ve no idea what you have against Daenerys or why you seem to hate her so much. But just know that she said she misses you a lot.”

Jon schools his face into nonchalance, refusing to show the effect these words have on him.

“She never once missed asking about you when speaking to me, even if it’s obvious that you deliberately don’t talk to her.” He pauses. “She said she’d be happy to see you again since it’s been so long. So, if you hate her that much, then don’t go. But know that she cares for you. And loves you.”

_That’s the problem, _Jon thinks sourly, _I love her too. _

***

Dany was his best friend before being his family.

How could he not love her? He did for as long as he remembers. They grew up together, three houses away from each other, and Jon’s best memories from when he used to live in King’s Landing all include memories of her. Like the times which he used to run into her backyard to play board games with her and she’d wait for him patiently, under the lemon tree whose seed they had planted together, in a pretty dress that made her eyes lovelier.

At five, she was his first best friend. The only person he felt like he could tell everything to, even if at such a young age their conversations were anything but deep.

At ten years old, they promised they’d never call each other aunt and nephew because, _ew, _that was just strange and in no way described their relationship. They were best friends, partners in crimes, each other’s ride-or-die. Plus, calling Daenerys ‘auntie’ was simply a very weird concept and Jon cringed every time Rhaegar tried to get him to say that.

At fifteen years old, he was the shoulder on which she cried when her father died in a car crash. A few months later, he did so on her shoulder when Lyanna, Jon’s mother, passed away from cancer, even if he was way more prepared for it than how Dany had been when her father passed, he still sobbed just as loud and she held him just as tight as he did with her.

At sixteen, Jon came back home one night with a broken, bloody nose after he beat up the guy who had made Daenerys cry after standing her up on a date she was very excited to go to. Jon remembers vividly how pained he felt when he saw how Daenerys had chosen a beautiful red dress and had done her makeup in a way more complex fashion than her usual light one only for her face to fall in disappointment when the guy called her to cancel and say that it was ‘just a silly prank’ set up by his friends because they thought she was ‘unattainable’. Daenerys was surprised when he came back to her and scolded him for doing this but then they laughed about it over a few beers under the moonlight that shone over her porch and suddenly, his nose wasn’t hurting anymore.

But the most memorable moment remains when they were eighteen and both single, freshly out of complicated teenage relationships that felt like the end of the world even if it wasn’t, not really, and decided that they should go to prom with each other.

They didn’t _plan _for it to happen and Jon doesn’t remember what changed to bring them to that instant. Whether it was the way the disco lights illuminated every single strand of platinum hair on her head and made her look ethereal, incomparable to the other women no matter how pretty they were, or the fact that she kept giving him those sad but sweet smiles throughout the night, knowing they were going to be separated after graduation, that their friendship would no longer be the same or if it was the way she kept brushing her fingers against his throughout the night or initiating other forms of contact that felt bizarrely intimate no matter how close they were.

Whatever the tipping point was, it was that night he saw Daenerys in an entirely different light. She was his best friend, yes, but also the most gorgeous woman in the room and she was in his arms, dancing with him, looking at him adoringly and everything melted away. When he dropped her at her front door at the end of the night, when they were both wasted and laughing in the dark streets, he kissed her. It was quick and soft and everything he never knew he wanted. Daenerys kissed him too, he can’t seem to ever forget that detail. She kissed him just as eagerly.

And when they broke apart, both of their eyes went wide at the realisation of what they’d just done.

He must’ve apologised a thousand times that night and she said nothing, only grew paler as the moments went by and made a pathetic excuse about needing to go pee.

The next morning, they were no longer best friends, for something was forever destroyed between them.

***

King’s Landing is a lot hotter than Jon remembers it being.

Rhaegar begins to complain about it the moment he steps out of the plane. “Fuck, it feels like walking into Hell,” he says with a long sigh as he removes the jacket he’s been wearing.

Hell is a nice thing to compare this trip to.

“Yeah, it’s really hot but I think that’s just because Winterfell’s too fuckin’ cold, I remember how long we took to adjust to—Gods, dad, are – are you crying?” The words are scattered and filled with confusion as Jon glances at his father whose eyes have turned red, his cheeks wet.

“No, of course not, don’t be silly,” Rhaegar answers incredulously, even as he uses the backs of his hands to wipe his cheeks.

Jon sighs. “Why?”

Rhaegar looks at him and then around them again, shaking his head. “It’s just…this place reminds me of your mother so much.”

Jon knows Rhaegar still loves Lyanna, has not loved her any less than how much he did when he held her limp body at the hospital where she took her last breath. And Jon misses her and loves her too. But for the most part, he’s moved on. He’s been able to go forward in life and his mother’s memory soon became just _that_—a memory, one which makes him sad, yes, but one that he’s learned to live with.

The same can’t be said about his father. Lyanna’s ghost has never left his heart and he won’t let anyone else replace her. Jon tried, a lot of times, to set him up with beautiful women in Winterfell. After all, Rhaegar is still a young and handsome man and many women have shown great interest in the silver-haired CEO but he’s never even so much as looked at another woman the way he looked at Jon’s mother.

Sometimes, Jon finds his inability to move on frustrating.

Which is hypocritical since _he_’s never truly learned to move on from….

“Daenerys is waiting for us,” Rhaegar blurts out suddenly, “I don’t want her to see me cry like an idiot. Just pretend everything’s fine, okay?”

Jon shrugs, even if he knows his father will break down in tears (again) the moment he sees his little sister.

As they begin walking out of the airport with their suitcases and bags, Jon’s hands start to turn clammy, his heart thudding anxiously in his chest. He hasn’t seen _her _in so long. The anticipation that comes with that realisation coils around his insides like venomous snakes, making him falter in his steps, his mind and body going unsteady as he thinks of Daenerys. Of everything they once were, which now seems like a lifetime ago. So much has changed and he has no idea how to cope with that, how to act around her now they are no longer the best friends they used to be.

His thoughts come to a halt when Rhaegar’s cry breaks through the air. Jon takes in a deep breath as he watches his father leave his belongings in the middle of the parking lot to run toward a woman, who is joining him halfway, his arms spread open for her.

Daenerys jumps in her brother’s arms and Rhaegar half-groans and half-sobs, embracing her tightly, lifting her from the ground and twirling her as he used to when she was a kid. Her giggles fill the atmosphere around them, making Jon’s chest ache just a bit at the familiarity of the now rare sound.

When she pulls away from her brother, Jon almost forgets what he’s supposed to do with his lungs.

_She’s even more beautiful than I remember. _

Daenerys was always the prettiest girl wherever they went. But now she’s a woman, all grown and gorgeous, her chubby cheeks no longer prominent but she still has a softness to her face. Her eyes are the same colour, obviously, but her hair is longer than it used to be. It’s hard to tear his eyes away from her, even when he’s aware she can see that he’s staring at her like a fool.

“Jon,” she breathes out, her voice as sweet and gentle as he recalls and the ache in his chest is growing deeper, unbearable.

“Hey,” he answers, rather awkwardly, still trying to collect his wits.

But he fails to do so miserably the moment she throws her arms around his neck, hugging him with the same ferocity she offered Rhaegar. Jon stumbles back but his arms wind themselves around her waist nonetheless, burying his head in the crook of her neck as his eyes fall shut. He inhales deeply, swimming in the overwhelming sensations of being near her after so many years. Nothing compares to having her small body in his arms, fitted perfectly together, like they belong—

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers next to his ear, her warm breath tickling his skin, the words spoken as if they were a secret even if they don’t mean anything more.

Jon’s throat is blocked with a large lump of emotions, making it hard for him to swallow and the feel of her form pressed against his makes it hard for him to say anything so he doesn’t, only hums against her hair, acknowledging that he’s missed her too. Way more than he would ever admit.

When she lets go of him, Jon catches a glimpse of the shiny thing on her finger. This is why he never wanted to come here. Numbness and ignorance are better than whatever the fuck he is currently feeling at the sight of her ring.

Rhaegar is staring at them with a soft expression on his face. “Feels so good to be united, doesn’t it?” he says, hugging Daenerys to him once more, pressing a kiss to his sister’s head as she grins. “We’re going to have the best family reunion ever.”

Jon has never less believed in words than at that moment.

***

“And…this is your room.”

Jon drops the heavy luggage on the ground, briefly glancing around the area. The King-sized bed in the middle doesn’t help, because he knows his father is a messy sleeper, who constantly yawns and throws his arms around in his sleep. But Jon can’t complain. He agreed to come, even if he was sort of guilt-tripped into it. And Daenerys just looks so happy that he’s here, for a moment he can’t remember why their relationship got ruined as badly as it did.

But one glance at her is enough to remember everything that changed after that one night, how he could not even look at her the same anymore. Out of everyone in the fucking world, of course he had to fall in love with his _aunt. _

“We’ll be more than fine here,” Rhaegar says the exact opposite of Jon’s thoughts. “Your house is gorgeous, by the way, sis.”

Daenerys’ face splits in a grin. Jon recognises that smile too well – a real, genuine, eyes-hiding Daenerys kind of smile. The kind that used to make her whole face light up. Scratch that, the kind that still makes her whole face light up. “I mean, I _am _an interior designer, I’d be more concerned if you didn’t find this place pretty.”

And one of the best at her jobs as well. He always knew she was going to succeed at whatever she would do in life because it’s Daenerys and she never fails at everything. She is full of fiery ambition, a fire that never dies out, and she _never_ gives up. On anything. _And anyone. _She never gave up on him either, nor their friendship, he is the one to blame for fucking it all up, he can’t deny that much.

Daenerys’ sense of style has always driven Jon to think that this is what she’d like to do in life. She always said that she would definitely end up doing something related to fashion and design, because she doesn’t see herself sitting behind a desk in an office for hours on end. That’s not Daenerys. _This _is Daenerys—colourful, smiling, gorgeous. He’s glad she’s doing something she loves.

“Anyway, I’ll go use the bathroom. My bladders have never felt this heav—”

“Dad,” Jon groans, “Stop describing how much you want to pee. Just go.”

Rhaegar rolls his eyes at his son before rushing out of the room, Daenerys watching him with an amused smile. When he leaves, Jon _feels_ the air thicken with years’ worth of tension.

Daenerys slowly turns to him, meets his eyes. “So,” she says, chuckling lightly, the sound coming across as nervous. That would be an understatement. “You’re here.”

He nods. “I’m here.”

“After all these years.”

“After all these years,” he breathes out.

“Is it different?” she asks, looking away from him the moment he does, staring at each other feeling way too complicated for the moment.

Jon shrugs. “Yeah, I guess. But some things never change.”

She looks up at him. “They really don’t,” she murmurs thoughtfully. Then blinks. “L-like Olenna, I mean.”

Jon cracks a smile. Olenna was their neighbour growing up, he’s relieved to know she hasn’t passed. “She still yells at you?”

“Every single day,” Daenerys sighs dramatically. “Remember when we’d accidentally throw something in her backyard and she’d run out screaming—”

“—‘You’re little monsters’,” they finish in unison and laugh.

For a moment, everything feels right in the world. Being here with Daenerys, his first and dearest friend, laughing at the memories of simpler times, back when nothing mattered except each other.

When the laughter quietens down, Daenerys’ eyes twinkle. “I’m happy you’re here, Jon. I really am.”

“So am I,” he answers softly.

“How’s law school?” she asks.

Jon feels bad, then, because he knows Daenerys always asks about him to Rhaegar but he never made an effort to ask about her, didn’t even know what she was doing with her life until a few minutes ago. He swallows roughly. “It’s…tiring. I feel like givin’ up sometimes, I’m not gonna lie.”

“Don’t,” she says immediately. “You’re smart, I know you can pull through.”

He loathes the way she speaks those words to him, so tenderly and full of hope as if she still believes in him like she once used to, as if she’s still the supportive best friend she was throughout their entire childhood. She’s always been his biggest support system, Jon can’t describe how lost he felt the first few months without her. Mostly, he hates how badly he misses that.

“Thanks.” He needs to get away from her, now.

“Come,” she says, “I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

Jon soon realises just how hard getting away from her will prove to be in the following days.

***

“Gods. I can’t believe my baby sister is _that _good of a cook now.”

Daenerys chuckles at Rhaegar’s compliment, which he moans with his mouth full, causing Jon to scrunch his nose up in disgust and shake his head. But he has to admit, the food is delicious.

Her bright eyes flicker to him just in time as he looks up from the plate. “Is it too spicy for you, Jon?” she teases, clearly remembering how he used to despise spicy food as a kid.

Jon smiles sheepishly. “It’s great, actually.”

“I’m glad you like it,” she tells Jon and Rhaegar. When she sits down, she regards them with a small smile for a long while.

“What are you thinking about?” Rhaegar asks, voicing out Jon’s thoughts.

“I just…it feels nice to have you two home again,” Daenerys tells them quietly.

“Home,” Jon repeats dumbly.

Her smile fades. “Oh. Sorry. I know it’s not _your_ home anymore but I think this place always feels more like home when we’re together.” Her striking eyes find his. “Doesn’t it?”

Jon doesn’t know how to respond to that and thankfully, his father beats him to it. “It sure does,” Rhaegar agrees. “But I’m certain you feel quite alright with Drogo here, don’t you?”

Daenerys blinks. “Oh. Yeah. Sure, but you know…it’s—”

“Does he live with you?”

She licks her lips before answering and Jon notes the way she has averted her gaze when the conversation has shifted to Drogo. “No. We’re planning to move in together soon but…no, not for now. He’s coming over for dinner, though.”

_Great, _Jon thinks bitterly.

The only thing that would make this dinner better is definitely her fiancé joining them.

Jon tries not to let his dark mood show but if Daenerys still knows him half as much as she used to, she has probably noticed it worsening the moment Drogo arrived. He is taller than Jon remembers, too _fearsome _for someone as tiny as Daenerys. But that’s none of his business, it has never been. Jon has always hated that man’s guts ever since Rhae had once mentioned about him and Daenerys getting together a few months after they left Dragonstone and King’s Landing. Admittedly, all of that hatred is deeply rooted in jealousy.

He greets Daenerys with a hug and a kiss and Jon gets up along with Rhaegar, ignoring the jab in his chest at the sight. It’s been years. He can’t believe she still has the same effect on him. It feels sick and twisted, and he’d do anything to stop it.

“Drogo,” Rhaegar exclaims and embraces his sister’s soon-to-be husband.

Jon settles for a handshake, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Rhae and Daenerys. Even Drogo frowns a bit but shakes his hand nonetheless – a bit too hard.

“I’m so happy I get to finally meet you two,” Drogo says, “Dany doesn’t stop talking about you guys and how much she misses you.”

_Dany. _

She chuckles nervously, cheeks flushing with colour. “Come on, it’s not that bad.”

“Please, Dany!” Drogo exclaims, “You say you miss your nephew all the time.”

Jon wishes he could focus on the words spilling from his mouth or the way Daenerys is blushing in embarrassment and his father is ‘aww’ing, confirming that he and Daenerys have always been close, but all he can think about is the fact that he calls her Dany.

Something only _he_ used to call her.

He still recalls how he’d found that nickname for her, they couldn’t have been older than ten and he’d complain about how Daenerys was too long and annoying to pronounce so he came up with Dany: short, sweet and simple. Just like her. She loved it but said she needed a nickname for him too, which was dumb because his name only consists of three letters. She had gotten mad when she realised she couldn’t shorten it further.

Jon would insist that nobody should be allowed to call her Dany. He’d even yell at Rhaegar if he did.

When Jon begins walking away from their conversation, it’s Daenerys who notices him. “Where are you going? You haven’t finished your plate.”

He shrugs. “I’m not hungry anymore,” he answers blankly.

He knows it’s unfair to be upset about something so stupid but he can’t help it.

After all, he only has himself to blame.

***

When he hears a knock at the door, he doesn’t think he’ll find Daenerys standing behind it. But he does. She’s facing him with a frown on her face, hands clasped in front of her. He didn’t notice her pretty red cocktail dress earlier, and perhaps that was for the better because now he can’t _not_ notice it any longer.

“Hey,” he says quietly.

“Hey,” she retaliates, hesitating, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“You just seemed off during dinner and then Drogo came and you—”

“I’m fine.”

She doesn’t believe him. He can see that as clear as day on her face. “Listen,” she begins with a drawn-out exhale, “I know we left on bad terms….”

“That’s one way to put it,” he mutters, “I’d say we didn’t leave on _any_ terms.”

She enters his – her – room then, glaring at him. “And whose fault is that?”

Jon closes the door behind her, scowling to himself. “Well, let’s see. Maybe the person who didn’t speak to me from one day to the next, who acted like a stranger, who—”

“Because I needed time to…process what happened,” she hisses out at him.

“What else was I supposed to think? I thought you didn’t want us to be friends anymore.”

“You know that’s not true,” she fiercely states, eyes snapping to meet his. “And…what about you? You left _the country_ without a goodbye. You never tried to talk to me again. _I_ tried. I admit I’ve made a mistake when I closed you out but I tried to fix it. For years. And you did nothing in return.” She inhales sharply. “You were my best friend,” she adds softly.

“No,” he tells her, smiling coldly, “We’re family.”

He knows the word bothers her as they do him, can practically feel the grimace she attempts to hide. Daenerys’ eyes harden. “Are you trying to punish me for something here?” she asks, barely restrained anger seeping in her tone. “I feel like you’re mad at me but I’ve no idea what I did other than invite you here because I’ve missed you.”

Jon doesn’t know how to tell her that he feels as if though he is the one being punished. His feelings for her have always felt like torture, even now. Even after all these years of supposedly moving on. “I’m not mad at you,” he says. He’s mad at himself for feeling this way about _her. _Gods. His own family. Someone he grew up with.

“Good,” she says and steps closer to him, closer than she has been in so long and the movement greatly unsettles him more reasons than one. “Because I need you to know that I still care for you.”

“Daenerys….”

She shakes her head at his pained voice. “I want things to be the way they were between us,” she whispers and lightly touches his forearm over his shirt, the heat of her flesh burning right through the thin material.

“That’s not possible,” he tells her just as gently, her eyes filling with hurt at his words. “I’m sorry.”

Daenerys looks as if she wishes to cry, the corners of her eyes growing wet as she blinks and looks away. He doesn’t want to hurt her but knows that if he doesn’t tell her things as they are now, he’s the one who’ll get hurt. All over again.

***

Jon has never liked Halloween nor understood the hype behind it. It only gives children an excuse to annoy you in the evening. The worst part is dressing up. He got ready for the party wearing a white shirt and a pair of dark pants but his father looked at him with a frown. “Really? You can’t even put…_something_ on?”

“I didn’t pack a Halloween costume,” Jon had huffed.

“Luckily for you,” Rhaegar said with an easy smile, “I knew you wouldn’t. So I came with an extra one.”

Now here is, in a crowded room where he does not even want to be at, in a _vampire_ costume. Rhaegar brought the whole thing – the long red cape, tight-fitted leather suit, the fangs. Sometimes Jon believes his father is a kid stuck in the body of an adult.

Daenerys’ house is so well-decorated that Jon wouldn’t have thought this was the same house in which he slept last night. There’s some creepy music playing in the background, scary faces carved out of pumpkins placed in almost every corner of the place, black melting candles, the lighting so dark that he can’t even make out people’s faces. On the table in front of him are several bowls of imaginative things only Dany could come up with: hat cakes, skeleton and ghost cookies, skull glasses to drink red wine out of, spider web brownies…. She planned this thing out to the last detail but that doesn’t surprise Jon. Daenerys was born a perfectionist.

Jon, contrary to the excited guests who are laughing and dancing, is brooding next to the buffet table, his fourth glass – or should he say, skull – of wine at hand. The taste is working to numb out the irritation embedded in his system, the need to get out of here that has been there since yesterday. He thanks all the gods that there’s a lot of alcohol here, it’s the only thing keeping him sane at this point.

When a hand slaps over his shoulder, Jon almost doubles over in surprise. He doesn’t recognise Drogo at first but it’s not like the room is full of men built like _this _so it’s easy to guess, even if he’s wearing a strange mask. “What are you supposed to be?” he asks.

“Uh, a vampire,” Jon answers stupidly. “And you?”

“A ghost,” he replies, although Jon can’t find the correlation between a black mask and a…ghost. Not that he cares anyway so he doesn’t question the costume. “Have you seen Dany?”

Jon’s grip on his glass tightens at the name. “No,” he says truthfully.

“Ah, she always likes to do this. Not tell us about her costume and surprise us with it.” Drogo rolls his eyes.

“She’s always liked surprises,” Jon comments thoughtfully.

“Totally,” Drogo laughs. “Hey! Look at this.” He pulls something from beneath the robe he’s wearing.

Jon frowns, narrowing his eyes so he can see what he’s holding up. “That’s a….”

“A keychain! It’s a lion. Shit, so little backstory, I forgot it was our anniversary last week and now I feel like total crap. You know her well, right? She loves lions, doesn’t she?”

Jon stares at him incredulously. “Dragons,” he says.

“What?”

“Daenerys loves dragons. Not…lions.”

“Oh? Oh _fuck_, man!” Drogo groans. “I got this shit made in gold for her.”

Jon blinks. “Well, maybe she’ll still like it,” he says vaguely, “After all, I don’t know her that well anymore.”

Drogo sighs. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Can I, um, get some more drinks? Wine’s almost over,” Jon suggests, anything to get away from this conversation.

“Sure,” Drogo says dismissively, “Go to the basement. Down the stairs over there.”

Jon smiles politely and hurries out of the living room as quick as his feet can take him.

He shouldn’t give a damn that Daenerys has a shitty boyfriend. Maybe she does deserve better but who is he kidding, Jon would’ve hated the most ideal boyfriend ever too. He curses under his breath as he reaches the stairs leading to a very dark-looking basement. He shouldn’t have come here, he thinks for the umpteenth time. Forgetting about his complicated feelings for his _aunt _and best friend was easy when they were miles away from one another. He had dated other women and truly believed he had successfully gotten her out of his head. And now he’s beginning to question the authenticity of his ‘moving on’ phase. Did he ever fully forget her? Or did he just momentarily forget the way he felt for her with the many distractions he had around him, but now that he’s here, in her life again, it’s hard to pretend that she doesn’t still have his heart?

The room grows dimmer as he descends the last steps of the stairs. It’s pitch black down here. He can hear the faint beats of a metal song playing upstairs, he can feel the ceiling shaking with the people jumping. Jon takes out his phone and turns on the flashlight just so he can see where he’s going. Daenerys’ basement is a mess of boxes and old furniture and other things he has no interest in looking at. He makes his way to the shelves on which he can spot different bottles of liquor.

He takes one from the top shelf, a dusty flask of whiskey, and stares at it for a moment. “Fuck it,” he mutters to himself and places his phone upside down on the shelf before grabbing the bottle and unscrewing the cap. It’s not like anyone will care if he decides to spend the rest of the night drowning himself in alcohol down here. Actually, that sounds a lot more entertaining than socialising with old friends he doesn’t care about. And of course, anything to avoid seeing _her_. He begins drinking, his eyes falling shut at the way the liquid burns down a molten path along his throat, eagerly taking in large swigs.

And then he hears _it_. Footsteps. The sound of sharp heels clicking on the tiled floor. He detaches his mouth from the bottle with a frown. “Hello?” Jon asks.

He squints his eyes, trying to figure out who this is. “This is not funny,” he says, trying to sound brave. He’s watched enough horror movies to know how this situation usually ends and he does _not _want to die with his throat slit at a Halloween party. He hasn’t even finished his law degree!

“Hi.”

“Fucking hell,” Jon blurts, turning around in shock at the voice which just whispered in his ear.

He does a double take, unstable on his feet as his drunken mind catches up with what’s happening.

A woman stands in front of him, her face too shadowy for him to make out her features. Not that he’d be able to, given the fact that she’s wearing a mask. What he can see, though, is that she has long, wavy dark hair and her lips are painted red. That’s the most the light coming from his phone can make out from her. Blood-stained lips curved in an almost smirk and probably one of the sexiest dresses he’s seen during the night. It’s long, the same colour of her mouth and the material look silky, clutching at her body like a second skin. This stranger seems _gorgeous_ and he’s drunk out of his mind, so he’ll probably make a fool out of himself if he tries to speak to her. “What are you supposed to be?”

“An angel,” she tells him and turns around so he can see her large, sparkly wings.

Jon raises a brow when she turns back to face him. “Why is one wing black and the other white?”

“I wish there was some kind of deep symbolism,” says the pretty masked girl, “But I fucked up my costume so I came up with this at the last moment.” She snatches the bottle he was drinking from, wraps her slender fingers around it before tilting it to her luscious mouth, taking a few lengthy gulps before returning it to him.

Jon glances down at the bottle. The tip is tainted red now. Her mouth is still smiling. “What are you? A sexy vampire?”

If his mind wasn’t so fogged with alcohol, he would’ve realised this voice sounds awfully familiar. But all he manages is a shrug. “Just a vampire.”

“Hm, well, vampires are always sexy.” Her tone turns suggestive. “Or maybe that’s just you.”

He swallows. Hard. _Why is a sexy woman flirting with him in a dark basement_? There is still a slight chance this will end in a murder so he tries to look around for a quick exit. The stranger hums playfully, “It seems to me as if you’re hiding down here.”

“I’m not.” Shit. He doesn’t sound convincing to his own ears.

“So why are you not up there?”

Jon doesn’t know why he should bother lying because first, this is a complete stranger whom he’ll probably never see again and second, he’s too drunk to care at the moment. He shrugs, licking his lips, missing the taste of the liquor already. There’s something much more tempting in front of him, though, a pair of sinful red lips. “Came here to see this…friend.” He can’t say family because what he’ll say next will probably scare the pretty woman away if she knew the truth of his and Daenerys’ relationship, “Someone from my past that I’m supposed to forget but it’s hard to forget when you’ve loved a person so much and now it’s just…it’s all ruined. And I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know if I want to, because I can’t be friends with her, I know it.” Jon lets out a dry laugh. “So here I am. Running from my problems. As I always seem to do when it comes to her, apparently.”

All this time, the woman before him hasn’t uttered a word but he can feel her eyes on him more than he can see it. After a long moment, during which Jon begins to question why he decided to vent about his relationship with Daenerys to a random girl, she gently says, “I can make you forget.”

Jon sighs. “You’re gorgeous,” he says earnestly, “But I don’t think I’ll provide good company for the night.”

“I think you’re perfect,” she says softly, her voice a gentle caress across his cheek as she comes closer to him. Jon _wants _to see her but all he can see is the mask on her face, dark in colour with diamonds lining the edges. And her mouth parting invitingly for him. “I’m quite broken too,” she tells him, placing her hands on his chest, his eyes trailing to the long, sharp red nails resting on his costume. “I think we’ll fit just right.”

“I don’t even know your name,” he tells her but his arm is already curling around her waist, accepting whatever _this_ is, wanting it.

“You don’t have to.” The words are whispered into his right ear, her glossy lower lip sliding over his earlobe, making him shudder. “And we don’t need this either,” she says and Jon hears a faint click before the room turns completely black, save for the insignificant light rays from the stairs. She’s turned off his phone’s flashlight.

“Why?” he questions, genuinely confused as to why they couldn’t see each other.

“So you can pretend I’m this girl you’re in love with.”

Jon groans in discontentment. “I don’t want to pretend you’re her,” he says hotly, “I want to forget her. Gods, you’ve no idea how badly I want to forget her.” His head drops on her shoulder, her fingers sliding up to tangle in his hair.

“But you can’t,” she says ever so lightly, “No matter how much you try, you can’t forget her, can you? No matter how wrong it is.”

Jon has no idea where this is coming from. Or how she even knows it’s _wrong, _he doesn’t remember mentioning anything about the nature of their intricate relationship. But she is taunting him further before he can ask anything, “You can’t get her out of your mind and you hate her for it, don’t you?” Her left hand drifts from his shoulder down to his chest and further below until she reaches his stomach, going down a path to his—

“_Yes._”

She presses a kiss to his neck and then another one on his throat and Jon grips the back of her head, fingers delving in what he knows are black curls as he tugs her head back, not seeing his target but knowing her mouth is close to his because he can feel the hot puffs of breath emerging from it. His nose bumps into hers as he joins their lips in a messy, desperate kiss. It’s frantic and full of pent-up frustration, her tongue sliding against his as she mewls into his mouth.

Jon doesn’t know what he’s reaching for in the darkness but his hands are all over her body, desperate to tug at something so he can feel her skin instead of this soft material. His palm cups her covered breast and she gasps against his lips. “Would you like to do this to her right now?” she asks, teasingly nipping at his bottom lip.

“Why are you asking me this?” he breathes out raggedly as she palms his hardening cock through his pants.

“Tell me,” she begs, sliding down his body before he can utter a word. Jon groans as her hands blindly fumble with his belt. “Would you want her on her knees for you? Sucking your cock?”

“_Fuck, _yes, yes, I _would_.” He can’t even deny it, gods be good, the thought of Daenerys kneeling in front of him with her bright violet eyes boring into his and her long platinum hair falling over her shoulders is enough to make all the blood in his system rush south.

A gasp leaves his lips as she wraps her hands around his length, stroking him with the help of her spit, her thumb glazing over the leaking head. Jon’s hand finds her head in the dark, curling around long strands of hair, as she takes him in her mouth, the moan she lets out vibrating against his cock.

She starts out slow, engulfing his length in her warm and wet mouth, causing him to throw his head back with a groan. Her nails dig into his upper thighs as she moves her head, sucking him with dirty slurping sounds that sound like heaven compared to the obnoxious music he can still hear. She picks up her pace and his hips begin to jerk forward, wanting to take more of that sweet mouth, fuck her harder….

All this talk about Daenerys has messed with his brain because all he can think of is Dany kneeling in front of him, letting him fuck her sweet, plump mouth.

His _aunt. _

“Are you going to cum for me?” she asks, teasingly licking at his swollen head.

“Yes,” Jon grunts. “Fuck, I’m so—so close—”

“Cum inside my mouth,” she orders and takes him in again before he can protest. Not that he wants to, anyway.

His orgasm hits him like a whirlwind, knees bucking, eyes screwing shut as loud curses flow out of his mouth. Breathing heavily, he registers her getting up and pressing a kiss on his cheek.

“Wait, where are you goin’?” Jon asks, befuddled by what had just happened.

“I need to go. But this was fun.”

Jon shakes his head, not understanding. “Can I at least know your name?”

She pauses, almost as if she’s considering it before she lets out a long breath and leaves him alone in the darkened room.

***

The best way to get over someone is to get under someone, right?

Jon strongly believes that the only way he’ll survive the rest of this week in King’s Landing and not lose his mind over Daenerys every time she breathes next to him is to find this stranger from last night again. It doesn’t have to be anything serious – they could go out for a few drinks or fuck. Whatever it is, she seems like the perfect distraction while he’s here.

“Who was that girl?”

Daenerys whirls around, her silver braid almost whipping him across the face. “You scared me,” she says and chuckles, “I’m making coffee. You want some?”

Jon shakes his head. Rhaegar is still sleeping upstairs but Jon has had enough sleep. After all, last night, the moment the beautiful stranger left him, Jon went back to his room to sleep. He didn’t get any, obviously, due to the fact that the party was still ongoing down here but he had time to rest and think.

He’s here on vacation. He refuses to spend the whole thing brooding over his aunt. What kind of weirdo does that?

“No, thanks, I’m good,” he answers her question verbally. “Last night, I met this girl and I don’t know who it was.”

Daenerys shrugs dismissively, “I don’t know. Anyway, did you see how clean this house is? I got up at five to clean it all up and—”

“Daenerys.”

“—it’s not like anyone helped me. Drogo went back home saying he was tired and Rhaegar promised to help—”

“Daenerys.”

“But he never did and—”

“_Dany._”

She flinches.

“Are you listenin’ to me?” he inquires, aggravated by her behaviour. “There was this girl, a brunette, who dressed up as an – an _angel_, I think, and I want to know her name.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Why?”

“That’s none of your business. I just want to see her again.”

She scoffs. “You’ll be here for a few more days. Why do you want to get to know a girl with whom you’ll never speak once you’re gone?” She clicks her tongue, “Right, that’s your thing. Leaving people to wonder what they did wrong.”

Jon scowls, hating how fast she can ruin his whole mood. “Can we stop this? It’s in the past. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Her eyes flash with hurt. “Fuck you, Jon,” she sneers at him.

Jon stops her from leaving, placing his hands on her forearms. “I didn’t see you at all last night,” he remarks.

“Would you have wanted to?”

“Well, I did come here for you, didn’t I?”

“Only after Rhaegar begged you to, I’m certain.”

His lip twitches. “Possibly. Drogo was looking for you last night. He wanted to give you a gift. A lion keychain.” He enjoys the fire burning in her eyes, because her fury makes it easier to pretend that he can hate her. “You know each other _very_ well, it seems.” Sarcasm coats his words.

“What do you want to hear?” she hisses at him. “That my relationship’s a mess? That sometimes I don’t know if I belong with him? That we hurt each other—”

“He hurt you?” Jon cuts her off, voice sharp and serious, grip tightening on her.

“Hurt _each other,_” she emphasises but, still, all he can hear is that he causes her pain. “Is that what you want to hear, Jon?”

_No. I don’t know what I want. _He can only stare at her until she wriggles out of his grasp, huffing as she straightens her floral blue dress. “And why are you searching for that girl?” she asks and slowly but purposefully adds, “I thought you were into blondes.”

His eyes snap up to hers, seeing the challenge in there. Daenerys has always loved playing with fire, perhaps that’s why nobody else can dream to compare to how she set his heart alight. “Sadly,” he drawls, his voice dark, his eyes pinning her in place, “there’s only one blonde I want, and I can’t have her.”

He watches the way her eyes widen in realisation and her cheeks turn a shade of pink that makes her look lovely and soft and young. She blinks rapidly and looks away, and Jon sighs.

It’s so bloody exhausting to be in love with your aunt.

***

“Jon.”

“What?”

“Tell Daenerys to come downstairs. I’ve made breakfast.”

Jon stares at the TV with a bored expression, switching between boring and _more_ boring channels. “Tell her yourself,” he says dryly.

“Hey, can you press pause on being an asshole for five seconds and go call your aunt?” Rhaegar snaps.

Jon sighs. “Fine,” he says, throwing the remote on the couch before getting up. “What did you make?”

“Pancakes,” Rhaegar announces proudly. “Well, I hope they aren’t burned, that is.”

Jon stands in front of Daenerys’ door for a moment, not knowing what he should do. He stares at the sticker of the three-headed dragon on the wooden surface before clearing his throat. “Dany?”

No answer.

He tries again, louder this time. And presses his ear against the door, only to hear the water running and…_yes, _she still likes singing in the shower. Her high-pitched, off-tune voice makes Jon smile as it reminds him of all the times they were younger when she used to sing, obnoxiously loud, and he’d tell her that she would make his ears bleed if she continued so she did it louder, just to piss him off.

Jon allows himself to twist the doorknob open so that she can hear him.

“Hey, Dad told you to…”

His voice trails off as he steps inside, completely thrown off by what he sees.

Right there on her bed is the pair of black and white wings last night’s stranger was adorned in and just next to it – a mask and a black wig.

***

The wait for her to get out of the bathroom has to be one of the longest, most excruciating moments of his life. He is bewildered, his mind still not completely wrapped around the fact that the mystery woman was Daenerys all along. The feel of her lips on his, sweet and intoxicating, her body pulled flush against his own, her mouth wrapped around his cock…. All of it. _Dany._

The bathroom door clicks open and out she steps, still humming and murmuring the words to a love song. Violet eyes grow twice in size when they land on his and she freezes, the hand holding the towel around her chest clutching it tighter, droplets of water going on a torturous path between her pressed-up breasts.

Jon is seated on the edge of her bed, legs spread, elbows on his knees with her pretty mask in his hands, his fingers tracing the lacy black material. Her eyes drop to his fingers, chest heaving. His lips curl in a smirk. “Care to explain, _auntie_?”

She stares at him, mouth moving but not forming any audible words. She straightens her shoulders, like the proud and stubborn Targaryen she is and licks her lips. “I _can_ explain.”

He stands up and makes his way to her, dropping the mask on the floor like the unimportant thing it is. The only thing that matters is _her, _and the feelings he thought he was alone in fighting all this time but now he knows. He knows it’s mutual. “Can you?” he asks, amused by how she’s trying to evade his eyes, her cheeks growing red. “Can you _really_?”

“I-I was drunk,” she says but the words are weak and _so _untrue.

“Were you?”

Two more steps. She takes two back as well.

“And,” she exhales when they’re only inches apart and her breath is warm and sweet, just like last night. He should’ve known only _she _could drive him mad as such. “And I didn’t know it was you.”

“Dany. You could at least look me in the eye when you lie,” he tells her in a murmur, his right hand coming up to caress her cheek which has turned hot. Perhaps because she favours hot showers. Perhaps it’s because of him.

She closes her eyes, he watches her long eyelashes flutter shut, and how she leans into his touch unwittingly before coming back to her senses, wide eyes finding his. “We can’t,” she whispers harshly. “We shouldn’t. Th—this is so wrong.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Wasn’t it wrong last night as well?”

“It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have….”

“Sucked my dick?”

“Jon!”

He laughs darkly, exhausted of being in this web of sinister games with her. He wants her like he’s never wanted anything else in his life, gods forgive him but he does. He always has. Since they were teenagers who didn’t know better, since he took her to prom after their shitty individual break-ups and realised he wouldn’t have rather gone with anyone else, since he kissed her that night and ruined their perfect friendship. “You did it, though, my sweet Daenerys.” His mouth brushes over her temple, their ragged breaths mingling and intertwining into one. “I wish I could’ve seen _my aunt_ get on her knees for me. I bet you looked beautiful.”

“Jon,” she whimpers, voice full of need.

“I want you so bad,” he tells her, staring into her lust-filled eyes, before pressing his forehead against hers and kissing her like he’s been dying to.

Despite her claiming that _they shouldn’t, _she returns his kiss with equal ferocity, her mouth opening under his ministrations. She tastes sweeter than last night and he’s fucking glad that he’s sober this time, sane enough to remember every little detail of this kiss: the little, breathless sounds she makes, the way her tongue curls around his, the way her hands are buried in his hair as she urges him deeper into her mouth.

He wraps an arm around her towel-covered waist and uses his other hand to cup her jaw, angling her face to deepen the kiss, suckling on her lower lip then her sweet tongue. _Nothing _compares to kissing Daenerys. He could do this the whole day and die doing it, and he’d die a happy man.

He breaks off the kiss with an irritated groan and she follows his mouth desperately, furrowing her brows in an adorable manner that makes him want to pepper her whole face with kisses until she is reduced to a giggling mess. “What?” she asks breathlessly and he can sense the fear in her voice, the fear that one of them is going to come to the realisation that they shouldn’t be doing this.

“Just—wait.” He holds a finger up and rushes to the door to open it. “Dad?” he shouts.

“Yeah? Jon? Where are you? I’m waiting for you guys.”

“Uh, you should eat. Daenerys and I are…talking. About _stuff, _you know.”

“_Ohhhh,_” Rhaegar makes a sound of recognition. “Yes, son. I’m so glad you guys are working on a reconciliation.”

Jon shoots Daenerys a look and she bites on her lip, blushing furiously. “Yep. That’s precisely what we’re working on,” Jon says loudly, smiling at how she rolls her eyes.

“Well, take your time but don’t forget the pancakes. They’re really good. And sweet!” Rhaegar calls out.

“Got it,” Jon replies and slams the door shut behind him, stalking toward Dany with a dark glint in his eyes. “I have something much sweeter to taste first,” he mutters, catching the way she gasps before his mouth covers hers, her arms going around his neck almost automatically and Jon lifts her up in his arms, making her wrap her legs around him as he walks them to her bed.

He lowers her down onto the mattress without ever breaking their heated, passionate kiss. He only pulls away to admire her because it’s embarrassing how many times he pictured this but nothing could have prepared him for the real image of Daenerys sprawled on a bed for him, looking at him with eyes full of desire and _something _more, her hair spilled around her like a crown of molten silver. “You’re so beautiful,” he tells her, getting rid of the towel hiding her gorgeous body from his hungry eyes. More expanse of smooth, creamy white skin is exposed to him along with her two round breasts, rosy nipples high in attention. “_Fuck_, Dany, do you know for how long I’ve wanted this?”

“Let me guess,” she has the nerve to _tease _him while lying naked in front of him like a feast, “Was it the day when we were sixteen and went to the beach and I wore that red bikini?”

The fact that Jon still remembers how sexy she was in that excuse for a swimsuit makes him laugh. “I’ve wanted you way before that,” he tells her honestly, “But, _yes, _I did have to fix a little problem that day.”

She giggles and he slides his hands over to her knees, prying her legs open, revealing her cunt, all pink and glistening with arousal. He can already _smell_ her. He is beyond fucked.

“And do you know how long I’ve wanted you, Jon?” she asks in a small, wavering voice as he drops his head to her neck, kissing along smooth, wet skin. He licks at the stray droplets of water falling from her hair, trailing behind them with his tongue along her stomach, in between her breasts and she writhes underneath him, encouraging him with quiet moans and pleas.

He hums at her question. “How long?” he questions, eyes meeting hers briefly before he wraps his lips around a nipple, tugging at the erect nub before encircling it with his tongue.

“That day when you beat up my ex like the honourable fool you are,” she whispers. “That was the hottest thing someone had ever done for me. And I remember going to sleep that night…touching myself as I thought of you.”

He groans against her stomach, his cock throbbing at her admission. “Tell me more,” he mumbles against her skin, reaching her navel, kissing her thoroughly.

“I came _so_ hard,” she says shakily, “I imagined it was you fucking me, though. Not my fingers. But my best friend. My nephew.”

“Fuck,” he whispers, hovering above her centre. “Dany, I need to taste you.”

“_Yes,_” she chants, her hips lifting on their own accord.

He presses a few teasing kisses on her slit, avoiding where she needs him the most until she tugs on his hair insistently, _despising _the fact that he’s denying her. Eventually, he gives them both what they want, giving her a long lick from her drenched opening to her clit, deciding that he loves the tangy taste of her on his tongue before going for another taste. And another. He wraps his lips around her swollen nub and Daenerys muffles her loud cries with a pillow, her body convulsing as he holds her down with one arm and bringing the other to slide two fingers into her soaked channel, her walls welcoming with digits with squelching sounds. “You taste so good, I could eat you whole,” he whispers dazedly, lapping at her like a famished man while his fingers continue to slide in and out of her cunt, curling on the inside to hit the right spot and watching as she falls apart underneath him. There has never been a prettier sight.

The spell-breaker, however, is when her phone rings and she picks it up to glance at the screen. Her face, flushed with pleasure _he _induced on her, blanches.

Jon sits up on the bed, face falling. “It’s Drogo, isn’t it?” he asks blankly.

“Jon….”

He sighs. “What the fuck am I doing?” he mumbles to himself, looking away from Dany.

“Don’t go,” she says when he makes a move to get up, her small hand closing around her wrist, her face contorted in panic. “Please.”

His heart breaks at her small voice but he sets his jaw, shaking his head. “You were right. We shouldn’t have done this. We can forget it, that would be better for both of us.”

“I don’t _want_ to forget it,” she sternly says, forcing him to meet her eyes. “Look at me.” Grey clashes into violet. “I couldn’t forget you in all these years, what makes you think I’ll be able to forget you after _this_?”

“You don’t get it,” he speaks through gritted teeth, “I love you. I can’t do this.”

“I love you too,” she says and even if his heart pounds at the words, he shakes his head in disagreement. “Yes, yes, I do,” she grabs his face in both of her hands, stilling him, forcing him to see the truth in her eyes and he sees it. Sees how honest she is. “I always have. I always will.”

“You’re going to marry him,” he whispers.

“You’ve done it too, haven’t you? Dated other girls? Pretended that _we _meant nothing?” she probes and he nods. “I tried to do the same with Drogo and that somehow brought me here but my heart is yours, it’ll always be yours. You know it.” She leans up, kissing him. He tries to stay still at first, refusing to return her kisses and break his heart once more but when he tastes her tears on his tongue, he groans helplessly against her mouth, kissing her harder, cradling her face to him.

“Make love to me,” she whispers in his mouth.

She helps him with his clothes. It’s far from being his first time having sex with someone but Jon is filled with buzzing, nervous energy which makes him feel like he’s never touched a girl before, his fingers trembling as they caress her skin, their kisses growing messy and out of sync. His heart is beating so fast in his chest, every time she touches him, he’s afraid it’ll just explode. 

He knows that he’s on the edge because this is _Daenerys, _not just some girl. The woman of his dreams, the love of his life, no matter how fucked up it is that she’s the only one who can make him feel this way.

“Shit. I don’t think I’ve brought condoms,” Jon exhales against her lips, annoyed and painfully hard.

“I’m on birth control. I’m good. _Please, _I need you,” she whispers mindlessly, kissing him repeatedly.

Jon nods, taking his cock in hand, rubbing the head teasingly over her wet folds, the sensation unlike anything he’s ever felt before. He thrusts into her with a single, hard snap of his hips. They both moan at the feeling, his length stretching her out. He mumbles a curse into the skin of her neck, biting down on her shoulder, _wanting _to mark her, needing to know that she’s his. “Tell me you’re mine,” he says into her ear, his breath hot against his skin as he fucks her. Slowly. So slow that it’s almost painful.

“I’m _yours,_” she sighs, her nails raking up and down his back, digging into his skin like needles whenever he slides back into her warm cunt. “You feel so good inside of me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she squeals as he increases his pace, slamming into her now, wet slapping sounds filling the room along with the heady smell of them.

Jon sucks on her breast as he fucks her, biting down on the sensitive flesh to contain her grunts. Daenerys wraps her legs around his torso, the soles of her feet digging into his ass as his thrusts grow rabid, quick, _forceful. _His name falls from her lips like the sweetest, most wicked song. “Gods, you feel divine,” he breathes into her neck, burying his face into the damp skin there.

“I’m so close,” she whines.

He reaches down, tapping on her swollen clit, and her body goes rigid with a gasp before she convulses around him. “_Yes_,” she wails in a frenzied manner, “Cum inside me. Fill me up, Jon. Please.”

Her breathless encouragements have him thrown over the edge, his own orgasm following close behind as he buries his cock deep inside her with a few slow thrusts.

Jon sincerely hopes Rhaegar is using the headphones he’d brought along.

***

“Well, I guess next time we’re seeing each other will be for the wedding.”

“Erm, yeah, about that….” Daenerys smiles at her brother sheepishly. “I don’t think there’ll be a wedding anytime soon.”

Rhaegar raises an eyebrow. “What? _Why_?”

“Yeah, why, Dany?” Jon inputs, even feigning a gasp.

She glares at him. Subtly. “I don’t know. Things just aren’t working out between us, I think.”

“That’s such a shame,” Rhaegar says with a frown. “You two looked very happy together.”

Jon hums. “Yeah. Such a nice couple.”

This time, she looks as if she wishes to run him over with a truck. He hides a smile.

“But,” Jon continues, looking over at his father, “I don’t think we have to wait long before we see each other again. Turns out I quite liked this family reunion.”

Rhaegar might not notice it but Jon sees the blush creeping on her cheeks right away. She maintains an easy smile, though, to her credit.

“I don’t know what you two did,” says Rhaegar with a relieved sigh, “to work things out between you but whatever it is, I’m glad it happened. Feels good to be a family again.”

_If you knew what we did, you wouldn’t be glad it happened._

“I think this calls for a family hug,” Jon says.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” his father exclaims, widening his arms. “Get in here, you two.”

Jon and Daenerys both move to embrace Rhaegar. The opportunity is too tempting not to take it so Jon lets his hand drift to her ass, leaning his mouth against her ear to whisper, “I’m going to miss your sweet cunt.”

He pulls away, brushing his lips against her cheek, taking in her wide eyes, tight-lipped smile, bright pink cheeks. Jon grins at her reaction.

“I guess it’s Christmas then,” Rhaegar guesses.

“Yes,” Dany answers, the tone of her voice a pitch too high.

Jon smiles one last time at her, knowing he is going to miss her _a lot. _“See you soon, aunt Dany.”

She rolls her eyes at him, waving at them until they can’t see her anymore, her smile bright and beautiful, and Jon decides that Halloween is not that bad, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know your thoughts!


End file.
